


Find Him--The It's Going to Be Alright Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Character Death, Drama, F/M, Heartache, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 22:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: "It's not going to be alright for a long time, if ever."





	Find Him--The It's Going to Be Alright Job

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I went there. I've been very morbid lately.

Find Him—The It’s Going to Be Alright Job

Takes place sometime after season five.

“I know where he is.”

“Eliot, please, please, just be careful.”

Eliot knew exactly why Parker was telling him to be careful. From her choked up voice, coming through clear as day on his comm, he knew exactly the type of situation in which he was running. He just wished beyond everything he’d never had to do this.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Parker blubbered out.

“No, Parker. It’s not gonna be alright for a long time, if ever.” He didn’t mean to be harsh, but with the kind of day he was having, it came out that way.

“I just, I wish…”

“I know,” Eliot replied, gentler this time.

Nothing would be alright from now going forward. They’d never be the same. Their lives were inexplicably altered forever.

“Just make sure I’m on track.”

“You’re almost there. I promise. Just bring him back. Please?”

Whether Eliot could complete one of the most important jobs he had ever taken was all up to what he encountered once he was inside. It could be messy, it could be sad. Most of all, it was going to be tough. He’d already gone through his own horror. Now he’d keep his emotions tamped down until he had time to process. This was his job. Not Parker’s. His.

“Parker,” Eliot started, voice trembling, “I’m going to do my best. But it might not be good enough this time.”

“This is why you should have let me…”

“No. Stop right there. We talked about this. You are not in any shape to do what I do.”

“It’s just not…,” she cried out.

Eliot blew out a few breaths, making sure he had control over himself before he answered her.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The abandoned house before him had seen better days. It was run down, looked as if it was barely standing, taking one good shove to send it over, a pile of sticks only remaining. It had rained the day before, so the ground was soft, the air still smelling of dampness. The sun hid behind dark clouds, which probably meant another torrential downpour awaited them shortly. It held off for now. 

Eliot had always liked this kind of weather. The dampness indicated water for life, to grow things green from the ground, to water his tomatoes, to wash the grittiness from the streets. Hardison used to complain…wait, he always complained about the weather. It was too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry. Never one thing or another to him. Eliot would bask in the sunlight, revel in the rain that followed. Both were needed for life.

It was a bright and sunny day when it happened. Maybe his mood mirrored what was happening outside. Eliot watched as the dark clouds moved at a brisk pace, rolling through the sky like they had somewhere to be. Eliot had somewhere to be, only he didn’t really want to open that door. What lay behind it, beyond it, may not be what he wanted.

“Eliot?” came Parker’s soft voice.

“Give me a minute.”

Eliot could hear her shaky breath on the other side, miles away, holed up safe and sound. That’s all the mattered right now. That Parker was safe and sound, out of danger.

A few drops started to fall from the sky, nothing that he couldn’t handle. His hair stood on end, curling from the damp atmosphere. His shirt clung to his body, mostly because of sweat from finding his goal at the end of the trail. A rusty brown stain stood out on his front, dried. His fingernails were dirty as were his hands and his boots. It would take a long, hot shower to clean off everything from his body, just like it would take years, decades to clear his mind of everything that had occurred in the last forty-eight hours. Who was he kidding? He would never erase what had happened from his memory. Closing his eyes, he relived that one second when it all changed.

Dragging a shaking hand through his damp hair, Eliot proceeded forward, knowing he had to find out what his heart had already told him. This was not going to be easy, which was why Parker had been left behind. He really didn’t know what he was going to find, but he could guess.

The stairs to the house were worn down from years of use, but they still looked sturdy. He certainly didn’t want to injure himself at this moment. He was miles from any civilization.

The gun he was carrying lay heavy against his back, but he didn’t reach for it. He had no need for it. There was no danger to him. What lay in the house, whatever he might find, was not a danger to him physically. 

The screen door creaked a little as he slowly pulled it open. Peeking inside, he made sure it was safe to enter. A bundle sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. The room was unexpectedly dry, so the roof in this section must not have any holes. The dust on every surface was deep and unbroken, except for the footprints over to the messy bundle. In those footprints were splotches of dark red, most of which had dried.

What was he going to do? Should he call out? Was it too late? No attempt had been made to build a fire. At least it wasn’t that frigid in the house, at least not yet. The rain coming down now wasn’t as cold as it was going to be later. 

Taking a steadying breath, Eliot made his way across the room slowly. He flexed his hands, trying to bring some warmth back into them. The bandages that he had wrapped around them were starting to fall off, revealing all the cuts, and bruises that had started to form hours ago. He’d have to take some time after to fix up what cuts he had gotten from the job. His side ached where he had landed hard on it. His shoulder smarted from the impact also, but with time it would heal. His soul was another matter. His soul had been ripped to shreds, laying tattered on the ground a hundred miles away and another lifetime ago.

Eliot’s eyes grew wide as he noticed the bundle shift slightly. That was not what he was expecting. He expected to find something he never wanted Parker to see.

“Nate?” he called out softly.

All he heard back was a soft intake of breath, nothing more. Eliot didn’t even know where to start if he should. By the sound of the breathing beneath the blanket, it didn’t sound good. He often wondered why he cared so damn much about them, why he put himself out there so many times to be held back. They all had issues, deep issues that over the years had caused a lot of heartache. And a lot of joy. He stayed for that and that only. The joy that his family had given him over the years had warmed his bones, had pulled him out of some tight spots, had made his life worth living. He wondered if the man in front of him realized that. Or had he just finally given up?

Eliot saw a shaking hand emerge from the frayed blanket that Nate had used for some warmth. It was mangled, dried blood coating the knuckles.

“Nate, I’m here,” Eliot softly explained. 

“Go away,” the voice underneath the blanket said.

“I can’t.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t have a choice and neither do you.”

A rough cough escaped Nate, making him hunch over even more than he was on that cold, dirty floor. Eliot wanted to run to him, to turn him over and figure out how to make it all better. Nothing could make this all better.

Eliot heard a few snuffles from Parker, but he put that aside. One thing at a time. One thing at a time. Nate was here in front of him. His heart could only handle one thing at a time.

“I’m so tired,” escaped Nate with a sigh.

“So am I,” Eliot said as he slid down to the floor a few inches from Nate. “Let me see…”

“No,” Nate shouted back at him, with more force than Eliot thought he could use. “Leave me here,” he growled.

“I can’t. I can’t let Parker down. Not again. Not after…”

He heard a little gasp of air from Parker, who was trying so hard not to say anything, but it was there.

“Tell her I’m sorry.”

“You can tell her yourself.”

Nate finally unfolded himself, head coming up from his cocoon. His eyes were bloodshot, blood crusted that had been running from his temple coating one side of his face. His hair stood on end, grey curls wild.

“I can’t.”

“Took me a while to find you.”

“Exactly what I meant to do.”

“Bastard.”

Eliot thought he might be getting through to Nate a little because the man actually rolled his eyes back at Eliot. 

“Parker doesn’t need this. None of you need this,” Nate started, emphasizing the word this with his hands. His other hand was wrapped with a dirty towel, probably attempting to stop the bleeding. There was too much blood on it though for just a hand.

“Nate, what you need to do is…”

“Tell him to get back here right now. I need him,” Parker said, voice angry.

“Parker just told me that she needs you. Just, let’s go.”

Nate closed his eyes like he was trying to will Eliot to go away and leave him in peace.

“It’s not gonna happen, Eliot.”

This could go two ways, Eliot thought. He could yell and badger Nate into coming with him or he could just throw the man over his shoulder and make his way back to his car. Both would piss Eliot off. He needed, wanted Nate’s cooperation in this. His shoulder probably wouldn’t be able to handle carrying the stubborn son of a bitch anyway.

Nate slid against the ratty sofa in the middle of the room. The blanket he had been using smelled awful like it had been there for decades. Dust motes danced through the air that they had both disturbed with their intrusion.

“You’re not making the rules right now.”

Nate smirked a little at Eliot’s insistence that he was now in charge. Through the years that they had been together as a team, he and Nate had often butted heads on how to run the team, sometimes almost coming to blows over something or another. Eliot took orders well. He didn’t take orders that could possibly injure another team member. This was one of those instances. This was why Eliot’s job was important. He saw what the others did not. When they were a danger to themselves, Eliot could pull them out until a better alternative could be planned.

The pants that Nate had on were caked with mud on the bottom of them. The shirt was hiked up, exposing a bit of his stomach, dark stain coating to the top of his pants. Dirt was everywhere. On his arms, face, neck. He was missing a shoe. How had he made it this far, to the house in this shape? And why would he? Things needed to be taken care of back in civilization, particularly how they were going to get revenge on this one.

“I always make the rules,” Nate shot back. “Follow orders, Eliot, like a good little soldier.”

Now Nate was resorting to be that bastard, insulting him so that Eliot would leave him be, to possibly die where he lay on that dirty ground.

“You gave up that right. Remember?”

“Shifted it. Never lost it. Remember?”

If Nate wasn’t in such bad shape, Eliot would knock some sense into him. It was best now to shift focus, get Nate out of whatever headspace he had put himself into after getting there.

“Why here? This is just…” Eliot said as he looked around the room, “not your usual M.O.”

“Safehouse. Hardison would have known.”

Eliot closed his eyes, taking in the pain of what Nate had just said. Yes, Hardison would have known because Hardison was one of the smartest people on the planet, ‘was’ being the operative word. 

“I came here to die in peace. Now if you would mind.”

Eliot didn’t exactly know what to say to that announcement. He figured that was Nate’s ultimate goal. Nate wasn’t one to slink off to lick his wounds. He usually met them head-on. This was giving up. This was admitting defeat. This was losing. Nate Ford hated to lose, at anything.

Eliot leaned back against the sofa with Nate, mere inches between them. Neither was the touchy-feely type of person. They left that to Sophie and Hardison, the two who were the gauges to the emotions of the group. Sophie would know what to do right now. She’d either gather Nate up, chastising him into doing his job, or she’d coddle him, telling him that tomorrow was another day. God, he missed Sophie right now.

Stretching his legs out, Eliot crossed his arms over his body for a bit of warmth. He contemplated starting a fire, but it might burn the house down around them. That would defeat the purpose of trudging up a hill to track down his former mastermind.

His, Eliot thought. Nate was his. Just as Parker was. And Hardison. And Sophie. They all belonged to him and vice versa. Why couldn’t Nate see that? Why couldn’t Nate get off his ass and make a difference once again?

“Fuck it. If you want to sit and bleed out. Have at it. Just remember this.”

“Oh, don’t start,” Nate said, arm waving him away. “I didn’t ask you to find me.”

“Yep, you’re right. You didn’t ask. But I’m the retrieval specialist. I’m retrieving. Doing my job.”

“Your job is done. Or don’t you remember what happened?”

Eliot tightened his arms, trying to calm his mind. Nate was trying to get a rise out of him. The man was so damn good at it.

“If you’re saying it was your fault, I take full responsibility,” Eliot started.

“No. It was my fault. You tell him that, Eliot. It was my job. I read it all wrong. Tell him,” Parker pleaded.

Eliot was tempted to take the damn comm out, but he wouldn’t do that to Parker. She was too fragile. He had one damn mastermind on the run. He didn’t need two.

“Tell Parker it wasn’t her fault. I should have seen this coming.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

Nate shifted uncomfortably, his shoulder touching Eliot’s. Nate always kept his distance from the others, except from Sophie. He was constantly checking in with her, whether it be a hand to her back, her shoulder, a brush against his hand to hers. He’d often linger once he handed her a cup of tea, fingers gliding over hers as he gave it to her. The silent communication between them was unheard of. He didn’t have that with either Parker or Hardison. The two of them knew many times what the other was thinking. It was kind of scary in fact that one person could know another so well.

He and Parker and Hardison had a different kind of relationship. It was built over time, with trust and laughter and good food and long nights together just doing nothing. 

Nate was silent for a few more minutes. Eliot thought that maybe he had passed out, but glancing over, he could see Nate’s eyes staring off into the distance.

“You know, there’s a lake nearby. I thought, I thought maybe of building a house here. This one’s a disaster. Wake up with the smell of Sophie’s tea brewing. The sound of the rain hitting the roof. The smell of the pines. The mud on Sophie’s shoes. She’d never let me hear the end of it. She’d complain about her hair being a mess or the fact that she’d have to buy the perfect pair of boots for the occasion. Now it’s just, it’s all gone. I can’t live this way, Eliot. I can’t.”

It was almost like Nate was pleading for Eliot just to leave him there to rot. What little sanity Nate Ford had left after his son had died had been rebuilt out of the ashes. Now it all had burned to the ground in one afternoon.

“Sophie told me one time, that I had to keep you out of trouble. She was adamant about it. Even got her drunk one time to make her tell me what she wanted me to do. Just like you asked me to keep the other two safe, what do you think she’d be saying right now to you if she saw what you were doing? What I was doing? Nate, I know this is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. This was not how this was supposed to go down.”

“Then how was it supposed to go down, Eliot? How? Would have, could have, should have. How do I even take a step forward? Dammit, Eliot. Dammit.”

Nate covered his face with his filthy hands, tears streaking down, uncovering his skin beneath. 

“Just like you did after Sam died.”

“You know what I did when Sam died. Crawl back inside a bottle like I did for years?”

“If that’s what it takes. Have at it. At least you’d still be alive.”

“Just give me that gun you have at your back…”

Nate had never in all the time Eliot had known the man indicate he was actively suicidal. He often wondered why with all that had happened to Nate, why he wasn’t. Sure, he was a mean drunk. He took so many chances with his own life and had almost lost it on many occasions. But he never directly came out and said that he didn’t want to live anymore. Until today. Eliot could see where he was coming from. He’d had thoughts like that before, especially during his very dark days. Something always pulled him out.

“Would that solve anything?”

“Maybe I couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

Back to blaming himself for everything that happened in the world. That damn guilt he carried around, even after all this time, must have been heavy. And just unnecessary. Nate Ford never killed an innocent person like he had. But now wasn’t the time to remind him of what Eliot really was.

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Eliot finally said, pushing against Nate’s shoulder. “You’re not hurting anyone.”

“Then why is Sophie gone?” Nate shouted back. “Why? Why is Hardison in that hospital, probably never coming back to us? Why, Eliot? How is this not my fault?”

Eliot really needed, wanted to hit something, to take back Nate’s pain for himself. They knew the dangers of running jobs, which was one reason that Nate and Sophie had gotten out of the business once and for all. Except they hadn’t. Both came back on occasion to help on jobs that needed more than three people. It was their way of keeping in touch and possibly having a bit of fun, as Sophie would call it. The woman couldn’t stop grifting, nor could Nate just settle down and be a gentleman of leisure. Hell, they were too busy conning other people or making Sterling’s life hard if Eliot had heard correctly. He often wondered if the two of them just loved to poke at Sterling because there was something more going on behind the scenes than he knew. And of course, there was Maggie, who seemed to be more in Sterling’s life now than before. Strange bedfellows as the saying went. They couldn’t keep out of each other’s lives.

Eliot only ever touched Hardison and Parker. Whether it was hugs with Hardison or holding hands with Parker when she needed grounding, Eliot had his moments. Sophie had always danced around him like he was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at a moment’s notice. She rarely touched him, unless she was pulling her practical jokes. He and Nate just kept their distance, always. Now was not the time to keep his distance. He needed to make a point to Nate before the man bled out. Eliot could see on the front of Nate’s shirt an injury that had not stopped bleeding. That rag wrapped around Nate’s hand hadn’t stopped it totally. Once Nate had moved beside Eliot, it had started anew. And the fact that Nate was now pale as fuck told Eliot he’d probably need a blood transfusion and fluids.

Eliot thought he could tell Nate that he didn’t have to like what Eliot was doing but he was going to do it. He could tell Nate that he had things to live for, a lot of things, including all of them, but would that work? He could shame him, tell him would this be what Sophie would want? Or he could just be straight with him and tell Nate that he needed his help in planning revenge for what had transpired less than twenty-four hours before?

“You’re being selfish,” Eliot started to tell Nate. Eliot turned to Nate, crouching over him, so he could see every single expression up close just in case he was really starting to fade out of consciousness. Taking Nate’s face in his hands, Eliot got very close to him.

“Parker needs you. She’s barely holding it all together. Hardison, if he survives, is gonna need you. He’s not gonna be the same as before. Everyone else? What are you gonna tell them? Huh? Nate Ford gave up because some bastard finally got in a shot at us? I need you. I can’t do this without you. Sophie wouldn’t let you do this. Do you understand? Whatever piece of your soul that you have left and damn you, I know it’s in there somewhere, just suck it up and get the fuck up. We need you.”

Eliot had gotten so close to Nate, he could see Nate’s micro expressions as Eliot went through all of them, telling Nate that he had something to live for.

“I… what am I supposed to do?”

“Live your fucking life, you stupid bastard.”

Nate shook his head like maybe he was finally agreeing with Eliot. Took him long enough. He had wasted valuable time fucking around with Eliot. Instead of struggling to get up, Nate’s eyes started to close.

“Shit,” Eliot shouted.

He could hear Parker in the background asking him what was going on, but he had to focus so that he could get Nate out of there and to a hospital. He pressed on the wound on Nate’s stomach as hard as he could to stop the bleeding. It took him almost an hour to get to the house on foot. How had Nate gotten there? Eliot hadn’t seen any vehicle along the way. Was there another way into the place that Eliot hadn’t seen? Eliot patted Nate’s pockets, finding a set of keys in one of them. Running outside, he pressed the button to unlock the doors in all directions. If it was close, he’d hear the beep. Off in the distance, he heard music to his ears. A beep.

The rain was now coming down in sheets, which would make it difficult to drive. It didn’t matter because time was of the essence. Nate was not gonna die on his watch. Enough death and destruction had happened to their family.

**Author's Note:**

> Except for a few instances (The Grave Danger Job comes to mind), has the crew ever discussed what might happen if one of them dies? They live dangerously. People can and do get hurt. What would push Nate over the edge? Or any of the others? I'll leave this here. Maybe there might be another scenario on what might happen if a job goes terribly wrong.


End file.
